Red and gold
by Matthew1972
Summary: Set during eisode 3x12 of Merlin. Camelot red and the gold of magic shape Leon's life, both the first and the second time around.
1. Red and gold

The powerful touch of magic wakes me when it has no right to. It caresses my skin and has the hairs on the back of my neck prickle in warning, as if each fibre of me is on edge. Danger, my mind screams at me. My body though ignores common sense, as does my desperate need to survive. It is too strong a sensation while I am too weak in my sleep of death.

I swallow down the drops of cool water, poured from a cup of gold so bright I can see it with my eyes shut. I should feel the wrongness of it, all black and dark, but instead nothing in life has ever tasted more right to me than these drops.

Pain comes back sharp, taking my breath away, or it would have had I still any left. The bitter taste and the copper tang of blood fill my senses. Everything at first reminds me of my injuries, but as magic does the impossible and it heals my fatal wounds I feel every trace of battle vanish faster than snow underneath a warm sun. Skin knits together where it was parted by a sword. Broken bones snap back into place without a sound. On the edge of my awareness I decide it must be, but I can not for the life of me make sense of the how and why.

Startled when my lungs fill with a rush of oxygen again I blink open eyes which had fallen closed in near death mere moments ago. Relief warms my heart and the steady thumb of it beating once more touches on every emotion in my soul. I am alive!

A stranger smiles at me, mysterious and kind at the same time. The reflection of gold fades in his eyes, and I feel his warm presence leave me, even though he does not move. The cool, damp air of the cave embraces me and it almost makes me shiver. Even so I welcome feeling something again over the cold alternative.

It makes no sense that the stranger before me should save me; me… a knight of Camelot. I hunted his kind upon the order of my king. I saw to it he is forced to live and hide out here in the dark, afraid for his life. Yet somehow he still does not seem to despise me. How can he not?

We do not speak when he helps me sit up. I heard strange words in the distance before, like whispers of an ancient power, but now the cave is filled with silence. I stare at him and his people in shock, not sensing fear, but only calm faith. They have lit candles and made a home where few dare to tread. Warm and golden light spreads around me, reminding me of the injustice. Are we truly on opposite sides? I can no longer fathom why.

He leads me outside. A soft breeze rustles through the leaves of the trees around us while somewhere in the distance a stream of water provides the forest with life. Birds chirp, as if there had never been a battle where lives were lost. Nature as ever continues its endless cycle of life, and I can only laugh at joining it once more.

I never cherished the golden light of sun so much as I do here in this moment when it hits our faces in a warm caress. In a way its unique power feels alike the druid and his magic. I can not shake the idea that maybe they are one and the same thing. My fear makes little sense today, but how can I not go back down that road when my king demands it?

I find my voice somehow, after I swallow down the edge of my emotions, and thank the man who brought me back. Our hands clasp together in a gesture which says more than I can ever say. The warm touch of his somewhat wrinkled hand makes me smile. Being alive has never felt this good! It makes me want to reach out and touch, but I restrain myself in my need for contact and to my sadness I feel the distance between us return.

We part in silence, under the golden light of the sun. Part of me wished I could stay and embrace the peaceful existence of the druids. Sadly a far larger part of me will always remain a knight, bound and loyal to the red of Camelot. It is what is in my blood, just like the gold of magic is in the soul of the man I am leaving behind.

I wonder if one day we will meet again and what our circumstances will be. Will his kind always be doomed to hide in the shadows? And will my brothers in arms and I always be allowed to ride outside in the light of the sun? With every step closer to Camelot I fear more and more what my return will bring for both our people.

For a moment I hesitate and I stop walking in the middle of nowhere. Will it not be better if I disappear altogether? No, I must tell the king of the dangerous powers in the woods. Dangerous? Why have I come to believe such notions do not always make sense?

Magic now seems no more dangerous to me than a sword falling into the wrong hands. It is just that I can't grasp what it feels like to wield such an invisible power and if I would even feel cursed to have magic burn inside of me. Does it hurt? Or is the thrill of it so all consuming that it corrupts the soul, like my king believes? So many questions and I know that I will never be brave enough to ask them. We all fear magic in some way or another, except maybe the mysterious druid I left behind in his cave.

I wonder what magic felt like to him? I suppose I will never know. All I have is facts. He breathed magic into me and saved my life. That knowledge alone is enough to make me change my mind. My life for my silence then… and so I disappear between the trees, not quite going back or forward. I am lost, undecided on what I am now my soul is touched by magic. I do not wish to be alone and yet on my own I have to figure it out before I can go either way. My feet though decide my fate for me.

I am unaware of the fact I made my choice after all until I stare at the towers of Camelot rising up in front of me. The sound of people combined with the smell of the earth and the shadows of the stone of the buildings welcome me home. I do not doubt my decision in this moment, because I know there is nowhere else where I fit in the way I do here.

Once a knight, always a knight… I have made my vows to the Pendragon red and gold for better or worse. I laugh when I realise the true irony of it. For all of my king's fears he carried the gold of magic straight into the heart of his home. His son, the crown prince and the man I called my friend, was rumoured to be born of it. The last traces of magic in my blood sparkle bright like a tingle dancing over my spine when I clasp his arm in greeting. For so long have we been friends that I sense deep down he is my reason for returning above anything else. Arthur, one day to be king. He is my home, and even in this second life I have been given I swear to serve him until the day I breathe out one last time.


	2. Cloak of green

I tuck my green cloak around me once more and disappear into the forest. Many of my kind feel the need to hide what they are, but not me. The time when I feared my existence is long since over. I am a druid chieftain and I am proud of my heritage, and my people. I shall not cower in fear for being blessed with a gift others do not understand. Even so I do know how to move around unseen in a kingdom afraid of embracing what is merely a part of the world we live in. If the purge has taught me anything it has shown me how to protect my kind.

Nature is not where I hide, but it is where I reside and I feel at home here. The smell of green grasses, the whisper of the wind through the leaves around me and the sound of birdsong offer a background to my life. The cave offers us shelter from the rain. Though on some days I cherish to feel its cool wetness wash my face clear from the dust of life.

Behind the pine trees a stream quenches my thirst. Bushes with sweet tasting berries and the odd careless hare, or pheasant, fill my stomach. My heart is not that of a hunter, but I do understand the satisfaction of the taste of meat. Killing a living being however, no matter what it may be, never fails to make me feel sad.

Screams and cries of battle invade our peace. It is a heartbreaking sound I had hoped to leave behind in my past. Sadly for as long as there are kings and armies it seems mankind is doomed to fight. Maybe I should stay well clear of it, or maybe I should gather my tribe and run… but when someone is hurt it is not within me to leave them in pain.

The green of the forest should not smell like blood, nor should it be smeared by its ugliness, but in this part it does. A coppery tang mixes with the ancient smell of dirt and decayed leaves. I can hear the moans of the fallen echo in my mind. We are too late though. Every knight I touch meets me with the cold silence of death, even though their bodies are still warm in memory of life.

I should hate what these men stand for, and maybe the boy in me who barely survived the purge does, but being who I am I cannot live with the loss of life. All I can feel in my heart is the pointless waste of battle. Hatred to me never solved anything; in fact it only makes matters worse as this sad battlefield proves to me once more. So many losses in the name of war. How can anyone bear it? With a heavy heart I search on for a sign of life. Someone… please? Have mercy on these men.

His groans of pain are no more than a whispered plea for help. I sense how his spirit drains out of him faster than the flow of the blood which leaves his body. His breathing comes with a desperate stutter. Underneath my fingers I feel his pulse slow down. It drives home the point fast. I sense that my healing magic alone is not enough though. No, we need to take more drastic measures, so I call for the only action I can.

In a blur of green and brown cloaks we hurry through the bushes and trees. A groan of his desperate struggle to survive makes me even more determined. "Hurry", I urge my people in our shared mind's voice. They need little encouragement though, for we have come to an unspoken agreement this human being, just like any other, has the right to survive.

It is when our voices mingle in an ancient and powerful chant linked to the Cup of Life that I feel the true power of my tribe is more than just magic. The green ad brown of our cloaks reflects the core of whom and what we are. Nature is around us and woven deep within our souls, or at least it should be. We can not live in peace while we do not listen to it. It makes me feel regret for those who lost their touch with the world around us.

My heart soars with pride when the knight walks off into the forest, alive and well again, albeit a little weak still. Both our fates lie in the hands of ancient Gods of the earth. I do not need to have the seer's power to sense how magic touched him. It is all in the way he does not fear me and he clasps my wrist before he leaves.

Maybe it is foolish of me to think we made a difference here, but time can only tell. For now I just become one with the forest again and await the arrival of the great Emrys as foretold in my people's prophecies. Changes come slow, but I am a patient man.


End file.
